Bonus Scenes



I hate them both. My prick of a father is the only reason I’m here in this shitty precinct facing an even shitter human being. If that’s what the fuck you even want to call him.

Benedict Davis sits across from me, tweaking like a true fucking crackhead. Rubbing his arms, picking at his scarred, acne-ridden face.

He’s disgusting. A waste of human flesh, if I’ve ever seen one.

“Hello, Mr. Davis,” I smile, flashing a wide grin as I sit down across from him. I’m tempted to grind my teeth.

Benedict looks up at me. I should be looking into dilated eyes. Eyes that are glazed over with whatever drugs are running through his system. And while I do see dilation, what I really see is myself.

A void of darkness gazes back at me. His eyes are empty. This man has no soul.

The smile stays on my face, but it feels like forcing a tired muscle to lift weights.

“Hi,” he says quickly, rushed. Forced. His movements are so forced. The shifty eyes, and twitching fingers.


What would possibly drive a man to come in here with a fake persona? I tap my fingers on the table, contemplating the situation I’m faced with. This isn’t just a tweaker. This is a man hiding something. Putting on an act.

The only good reason someone would do that is because they want information on the investigation.

I smile.

And the only reason someone wants information on the investigation is because they have a connection with the suspect.

“I’m informed that you’re a key witness,” I start, opening my notebook. Just a formality. The conversation I plan on having with this man won’t be written down in my notebook. It will be a conversation no one else will ever know about.

“The Ghost Killer,” I announce. “The notorious crime lord killing off dozens of men.”

Benedict sits across from me, holding firm to his act.

“That’s right,” he confirms, scratching at his arm. “I witnessed a murder. I don’t want no one comin’ for me, man. That-that big guy out there—the detective—he promised me protection.”

I nod my head. On the outside, I’m a charming lawyer, completely at ease. On the inside, I want to wrap my hands around this guy’s neck and crack his skull open on cement. See what’s really going on inside his head.

He’s not who he says he is, that much I know for sure. He’s trying too hard. I’m a master manipulator myself, I know how to spot manipulation from a mile away. It blows my mind no one can see through Matthew Fitzgerald’s shit—I almost laugh that Benedict Davis thought he could pull one over on me.

And I know this because like minds recognize each other. When you have a soul-sucking darkness residing inside you, you tend to feel attracted to those who also have a black hole for a heart.

It’s what drew me to my little pet sitting at home. She’s dark on the inside—a side-effect of the repulsive town she was raised in. Most times, just looking at her disgusts me. But she’s such an eager little puppy, waiting at home for me to use up until I grow bored. She’s always fucking waiting for me. Nearly on her knees, begging to suck my cock half the time. She’s so eager to please, I had to keep her around.

If it wasn’t for her perky tits and round ass, and how tight her little pussy is, I would’ve discarded her long ago. She’s a bore outside the bedroom.

“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Davis,” I respond, pulling my thoughts away from River. “First thing’s first. Let’s talk about this murder you witnessed.”

“Well,” he starts slowly. “I was walking down 1st street.”

“1st street?” I interrupt. His eyes flash, a cold fury that matches the fury that’s taken up residence inside my own soul. The emotion slides away, like oil sliding off glass.

“N-no. Sorry,” he apologizes, coughing out a nervous laugh. “3rd street is what I meant. I was walking down 3rd street when I seen a hooded man holding a bloody knife.”

“What kind of knife?” I query, crossing my fingers together.

“What are you, a detective or my fucking lawyer?” he snaps.

I smile—a real smile this time. “As your lawyer, it’s important I have all the details, Mr. Davis. I need to make sure I’m fully prepared for when you testify.”

I nearly choke on the fake words. In all reality, I couldn’t give a shit less about being a lawyer. My original goal was to take over Daddy Dearest’s firm and destroy everything he built from the inside out. I wanted this fucking firm to crumble beneath my feet as my father kneels before me, kissing my shoes and begging for his pathetic life.

The only true way to hurt a sociopath like my father is to humiliate him. He’s so good at faking real emotion, so good at playing the charming man that would give anyone the shirt off his back or help a helpless child in need.

Yeah, helping a child is what he’d love to fucking to do. The more helpless they are, the weaker, the harder his cock gets.

Now? Now I see the benefits in this career. Something even my father has dipped his toes into a time or two. With a profession like this comes connections. Big fucking connections. In a world like this, I can get away with anything I want. I learned that lesson with Alison. And now, I’m unstoppable. I will climb this food chain, stepping on the heads of anyone who gets in my way.

And I’ll start with the Ghost Killer.

“Fine,” he huffs. He continues the rest of his story, inaccuracy after inaccuracy. My prick of a brother gave me the rundown on his story already. And yet all I hear are lies coming out of this man’s cracked, unwashed mouth.

“So, what’s the real story?” I ask. Benedict’s face drops. My charming mask slips and I show him my real face. “Come on, we both know you’re full of shit. Witness the Ghost Killer’s murder? If he was stupid enough to commit murder in broad daylight, he sure as shit wouldn’t still be on the run.”

“It’s Shallow Hill, man. Murder happens in broad daylight all the time.”

“Then why are you snitching? If you’re so used to witnessing murder, why report this one? How did you even know he was the Ghost Killer?”

Benedict just stares at me, his expression smoothed out into a carefully blank canvas.

I bring my chair closer, the metal grinding obnoxiously against the tiled floor. Benedict’s eye twitches at the sound. This man is probably on drugs, with the dilation and acne. But he’s in a lot more control of it than he makes people think.

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Davis. I think we can help each other a great deal. That detective out there? That’s my brother. And I would love nothing more than to make his life miserable. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you’re not here to make his life easier, either.”

I’m taking a gamble. A huge fucking gamble. But this man… I know it deep in my bones. He’s like me.

Dark. Depraved. A hunger to hurt.

This isn’t a cronie of the serial killer. No, no. He’s too bold. Which only leaves one other option. He is the serial killer.

My, my. And here I thought my day was going to be hell. Instead, I get to talk to the Ghost Killer himself.

It’s fucking laughable that Mako considers himself a goddamn detective. The killer is sitting in his goddamn face.

“So, here’s what we can do. You tell me who you really are, Mr. Davis. And I’ll make sure you never get caught.”

The tremors stop. The fidgeting. The whole fucking façade. And finally, I come face to face with the real Benedict Davis. A cold blooded killer. A man who has an agenda. One I’m going to rip from his hands and tear to shreds. And he’ll fucking grovel by the time I’m done.

He studies me closely, his shrewd gaze thin. His glacial eyes feel like a bird’s beak picking at my skin, poking holes in the mask until he exposes me completely. The feeling makes me want to curl my hands around his neck, but something tells me Mr. Davis would enjoy it.

“You’ve got balls of steel, I’ll give you that, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Benedict replies after a moment. I cock a brow. This asshole doesn’t intimidate me. Pretty soon, I’ll have him kneeling before me, too. I’ll have the whole goddamn world kneeling before me.

The tough guy act is a bore, but I’ll play along for now. Benedict Davis could be a great ally. He’s gained my respect just from escaping Mako’s clutches this long. Anyone that makes his life harder, makes my life easier.

“Among other things,” I say casually.

Benedict curls his tongue in his cheek, seemingly contemplating something. Is he trying to decide if he should kill me or not? He won’t get very far.

“Call me Billy.” A smile quirks on his lips and he leans forward, tangling his calloused fingers together and mimicking my position. I glance at his hands, noting the scars. I bet this man’s body is covered in them. Don’t give a shit how he got them—it’s what they represent. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. Clearly, by the bodies that have been littering my town for the past year.

I could use muscle like that. I’ll be the mastermind, he can be my loyal dog and go bite the heads off of anyone I command him to.

“Tell me, Ryan. What could you possibly have to offer me that I’d want?”

My smile grows.


A busty blonde woman sticks her fake tits in my face. She cups them, pressing them together and tweaking one of her nipples. I curl my lip. Her bright pink fingernails are longer than my father’s prick. It’s disgusting.

“I need men I can trust,” Billy says from beside me, puffing on a cigar that cost more than my car and eyeing the woman who’s currently sucking his cock. Red lipstick smears across his dick as the girl slobbers all over him. She’s trying too hard, and it doesn’t look like the asshole next to me is going to get off anytime soon.

He lets her have her fun anyway. I smirk. Let her jaw fall off. Then at least she’d be providing real entertainment.

“Those are hard to come by,” I agree. The blonde in my face spreads my legs and gets on her knees before me. My cock hardens in my slacks as she unzips them and pulls me out. She pumps my dick a few times before wrapping her hot mouth around the tip, and then swallows me whole.

I bite back a groan as she sucks me off. I slip my phone out of my pocket, and open up my tracking app. Usually I forget about River when another girl’s mouth or pussy is wrapped around my dick, but these dumb bitches are acting like they’re on a porn set. All fake moans and exaggerated movements.

I nearly throw the glass across the room when I see my bad little girl is not where she’s supposed to be. I grit my teeth, rage building in my chest. She’s at that fucking whore’s house—Amelia’s. I told her to stay away from that bitch. Seems River likes to be punished. Good thing I love to hurt her.

For now, I’ll hurt the stupid bitch that has the audacity to suck my cock like a broken vacuum. I wrap my hand into her bleached hair and force her all the way down. She chokes, and plants her hands on my legs to try and push away. I hold her steady, and finally, I feel my orgasm building.

Billy laughs at the girl. And when I see tears slip down her painted cheeks, I let her go. She pulls away, gasping for breath. I keep my hand firmly in her hair, not letting her stray too far. She gets in one deep breath before I’m forcing her back down. It takes another minute of her choking before I groan, my orgasm wracking through my spine. Hot cum shoots down her throat. The second she wrings the last drop from me, I push her away. She scrambles away, tears streaming down her face and a sob breaking free.

I smile and Billy snorts. “Sick fuck,” he murmurs. Billy’s content letting the girl before him prune his dick.

I slip my phone in my pocket as Billy continues. “I want to expand my operations globally. Not just in the states, but I want my product in all of South America to start with. From there we’ll start crossing seas.”

Big aspirations for someone who keeps killing his crew. He’s not fit to be a leader, but I’ll let him think so for now. I’ll have to be smart about this. Billy’s hooked on his own product and has made it known he has a short fucking fuse when he’s high.

“I know just how to make that happen,” I reply.

Billy leans closer to me, the harsh liquor on his breath making my nose sting. “That’s great, kid, but you talk big. You know what I require from my men? Insurance policy.”

If I didn’t already possess restraint, I’d have smashed my fist down this asshole’s throat and ripped out his larynx. Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? I swallow the threats down, my unspoken promises feeling like rocks going down my throat. I keep my face blank as I meet his gaze.

“What kind of insurance policy?”

“The kind that walks and talks.” When I don’t answer, he clarifies, “Your pretty little girlfriend. She’s my insurance policy. You fuck me over, boy, she dies. Do you understand?”

He looked into me. Not surprising. I’d have done the same.

I almost laugh. He wants River? That’s like handing over a dirty penny. I can find plenty of River’s. She’s replaceable.

I don’t let Billy know that, though. He needs to think he’s holding something valuable over my head.

I lower my brow, and make sure to look displeased.

“That’s my girl, man,” I argue, forcing hesitation into my tone. He shrugs, straightens himself and sucks on his cigar.

“That’s our girl now, Ryan. Everything you own, is now mine. Don’t make me come collect.”

I nod, appearing to give in to his demands. On the inside, excitement replaces the lingering rage. River’s time is limited, that I already knew. I don’t need to worry about Billy getting his hands on her. My little flower will be broken long before that. If Billy touches her, it’ll be because I threw her away, like a steak bone to a starving dog. He’ll have nothing but a broken shell of a girl and I’ll be sitting on my throne.

Right where I belong.

During the week of training before Satan’s Affair.

Sweat drips into my eyes, burning my retinas. I squeeze them shut, growling from both the pain and frustration. I can hardly lift my hand high enough to wipe my ass, yet Zade insists on forcing me to train with him anyway.

“Baby, you’re making it really easy to overpower you right now,” Zade says. I force my eyes open long enough to glare at him. Little good that does when they’re watery. He’s seriously ruining my rep.

“I’m sore,” I bite out. “Do you know how long it took me to climb the steps this morning? Too long, asshole. Too long.”

He grins. “Just call me next time. I’ll carry you.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need a piggyback ride, thanks.”

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be on my back, little mouse.”

I huff and turn away from him, snatching a hand towel from the chest at the foot of the bed and wiping away the excessive sweat.

“You’re lucky I’m going to like the way I look naked after all this shit,” I mutter under my breath. The hair on the back of my neck rises a moment before I feel his body press into mine; his naked chest and stomach pressing into my back and sticking to me like two t-shirts fresh out of the dryer.

“You going to take more nudes for me, little mouse?”

My eyes widen, and I turn in outrage. “You did see my nudes, didn’t you?” I push his chest, but he doesn’t move a goddamn inch. “You asshole. That is an invasion of privacy!”

He tips his head back and laughs before dropping his chin and giving me that savage grin of his. “What about the word stalker is lost on you? You don’t possess privacy.”

I just stare at him, seething and at a loss for words. My face is increasingly growing flushed, and soon it will be so red, all my freckles will disappear.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and he presses deeper into me, bringing his stupid, smug face closer to mine. His yin-yang eyes pick apart my expression, heating with lust.

“Don’t think I didn’t check to see if you sent them to anyone,” he murmurs. His proximity robs me of speech, and I’m becoming tired of him turning me into a mute. I like being able to talk.

“I haven’t,” I snap, though he obviously already knows that.

His large hand slides up the back of my neck and into my hair, fisting the strands tightly and rendering me immobile. My stomach tightens and swirls with heat, burning my insides as if I just drank an entire bottle of whiskey.

I suck in a sharp breath as he brushes his lips against mine, just barely.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps. “I would’ve had to kill them if you had. Just think of how many lives you save by belonging to only me.”

“You’re sick,” I snap.

He chuckles, his other hand sliding down my ass to cup my pussy from behind. He jerks me impossibly closer, rolling his hips into mine. I feel his hard length dig into my stomach, and my mouth parts as lust smothers my common sense.

All the aches and pains from the past few days fade away, until all that remains is unbridled lust that leaves me trembling.

“If you think that’s sick, then I would hate for you to hear all the ways I want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice deepening with a darkness that sends chills down my spine. “I want to see pictures on your phone where you’re covered in bruises from my hands and teeth. I want to see those sexy little poses, with your ass in the air and my handprint burned into your skin.”

He grinds against me again, and my eyelids droop. I feel my nipples tightening beneath my sports bra and my thighs growing slick with arousal.

“Might as well pee on me, too, if you’re trying to mark your territory,” I snip, though it’s missing heat. It’s been redirected to between my legs, and I feel my face flush hotter. That sounded like a fucking suggestion, and I’m not going to act like I haven’t done some pretty shameful things in my life, but I draw the line at golden showers.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take it seriously, but of course, he has to take it a step further. “I’d rather see you draped in my blood.” He hums, turned on by the idea. “Bloody and bruised, just for me.”

“I’m never taking pictures again,” I say, attempting to lean away yet failing miserably. Zade has never let me get far from him, no matter how hard I try.

“Then I’ll take them for you,” he responds, a moment before roughly pushing me back on my bed. I land ungracefully and immediately try to scramble away, but as I said, he doesn’t ever let me get far.

“Stop it,” I snarl fervently, smacking away his hands.

“Smack my hand one more time, and I’ll make your ass look like it got fucking branded.”

What does my dumbass do? I smack him again and then instantly regret that decision. Fuck, I regret so many decisions. Including allowing this man into my house. I find I miss the days when he would stay outside, just like the fucking dog he acts like.

My eyes widen, and he straightens, staring down at me with electric fire in his gaze. My heart stalls, coming to an abrupt, deadly end inside my rib cage. It thumps down through my bones until it lands pitifully in my stomach.

He sits on the edge of the bed beside me, reaches back and curls his hand into my hair once more, and then whips me over his lap harshly, pulling a startled yelp from my throat.

“Zade!” I shout, bucking against his hold. He releases my hair to band one arm across my back, while the other tears down my leggings. I wriggle against him, panic and urgency unfurling in my bloodstream as he shreds the fabric from my body. The loud ripping noise causes that useless muscle in my stomach to shoot right back up and into my throat.

“I swear to God, if you—”

“You’re going to swear to me?” he chuckles. “Tell me all the empty promises you’re going to make about the only one capable of making them come true.”

I growl with frustration from his condescension and his stupid fucking god complex. Just as I open my mouth, ready to make those promises, his hand connects with my ass in a sharp slap. I choke on the words as searing pain radiates from my backside. He rubs his hand across my skin, soothing the burn.

“Dick!” I burst out, both furious and muscles tight with agony. In response, he slaps the other side just as hard, my ears ringing from the sharp sound of flesh connecting with flesh. He repeats the process, circling his hand and soothing the sting.

“Fuck, I don’t think seeing my marks all over you will ever be enough,” he groans, squeezing one cheek roughly until I’m inhaling sharply from the bruising force. I’m trembling violently, and I’m unable to discern precisely from what.

“Let me go,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“I could do that,” he muses. “It makes my cock hard when you think you have a chance of escaping me, only to fall right back into my trap again. Watching the hope bleed from your eyes is fucking magnificent.”

His fingers drift lightly over my slit, and it doesn’t matter how vehemently I tell myself it’s just sweat from the workout; even I can’t deny how wet I am.

“You can try to run and face an even worse punishment, or you can lift your ass up a little, baby,” he says darkly, voice tight with desire. Grinding my teeth, I decide just to listen if it means this will be over quicker. I’m too tired for cardio anyway. At least that’s what I tell myself, but the trickle of fear is a testament to that lie.

He hums his appreciation. “Good girl. You pose so fucking pretty for me, too.”

A bright light flashes out of the corner of my eye, followed by a soft click. I turn my head just in time to see him set my phone down.

“Are we done?” I breathe, attempting to slide off his lap. He stops me. Of course, he fucking stops me. I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but for some reason, my brain is insisting on clinging onto hope. It seems to be the only thing stronger than my fear of this man.

“Not even fucking close. I only saw pictures on your phone. But what I didn’t see are videos of you touching yourself.”

“That’s what a mirror is for,” I snap, twisting my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

He fists my hair, jerking my head back roughly and leaning in closer to my ear.

“Then let me be your mirror. Let me show you how fucking beautiful you are.”

Whatever insults were building on my tongue dissolve like sugar in hot water.

He lifts me up and readjusts both of us until he’s sitting upright, his back leaning against the black stone wall my bed is against. I’m facing away from him, straddling his lap with my knees spread wide on either side of him. My back is arched, ass is in the air—and right in his stupid face—while I lay my chest flat to the bed, glaring at the vanity on the other side of the room. I feel blood rising to my face in shame.

“I hate you,” I hiss, but it’s only because he can see the evidence of just how much my body opposes that sentiment.

He rubs his hand up my thigh, to my ass, and squeezes, causing my pussy to clench. My hands curl into the black, satin bedsheets, fisting the fabric tightly until my knuckles turn white.

“Do you hate this, too?” he asks, right before I feel his thumb dip into my entrance, gathering my arousal, then spreading it to my clit before lightly circling it. “Do you hate how your pussy cries for my attention? So fucking desperate, you weep at the slightest touch.”

I shake my head, denying the truth. A moan is clawing to get past my gritted teeth as he continues to play with me. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, yet that’s all I can feel as his thumb strokes me harder. My thighs stiffen, both rigid yet overcome with tremors.

Intense pleasure gathers beneath his touch, flowing throughout my entire body until I have no choice but to yield to the euphoria. Right as my eyes begin to drift shut, a bright light appears in my peripherals again, but this time, it stays on.

He’s recording me.

“Zade,” I warn, sliding away. “No—”

His hand comes down on my ass in a punishing slap. I cry out, so shocked by the hit that I can’t even fight him when he grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him.

“Your pussy is next, Adeline. No one is going to see this video but you and me. If anyone did, you know exactly what the fuck would happen to them.”

I bite my lip, battling with the urge to fight him. I’ve never let a man record me before; I refused to end up on porn sites without my knowledge or permission. But then I remind myself that Zade literally chopped off a man’s hands for touching my thigh—and then killed him when he did more than that. If this somehow leaked, anyone who viewed it would have their eyeballs gouged out by morning.

He must feel me relax because he dips a finger inside me, crude noises eliciting as he curls the digit just right and pulls a moan past my lips.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, more to himself than me, adding in another finger. My breath hitches, lust clouding my vision and erasing any lingering discomfort.

He groans. “Your skin is so flushed. You burning up, baby?”

I nod shakily, feeling precisely that. Like I’ve been tossed into a fire to roast alive.

He retracts his fingers and reaches over to my nightstand. I turn my head, confused about what he’s doing, until I see him grab for my cup. It’s full of ice water, and I know exactly what the shithead is planning.

“Zade…” Another unheeded warning. He uncaps the lid, grabs a cube, sets the cup back down, and turns the camera back onto me.

I open my mouth, but before I can get a word out, he’s touching the ice cube to my clit. I nearly jump out of my skin, an embarrassing noise slipping free.

“Move away, I dare you, little mouse,” he barks when I begin to crawl away again. Biting my lip, I force myself to still, bristling when he resumes. It’s so cold; it burns as he swirls the cube on my clit and up to my entrance. He teases for a few seconds before slowly sliding it in.

Oh, no.

That’s just fucking cruel.

“Okay, hold on a second,” I cut in, hesitant to move away, yet all my neurons are firing and screaming at me to run like hell.

“You’re going to sit still like my good little girl and shut that pretty mouth of yours unless you’re begging for more. Argue with me one more time, and I’ll remind you how cold the barrel of my gun is.”

That shuts me up. What’s a little ice anyway?

Once more, he resumes, and it takes all of my energy to stay still. My thighs shake, and my stomach clenches tight as the ice breaches past my entrance. I suck in a shuddering breath, squeezing my eyes shut as the bitter coldness invades such a sensitive area.

Just when it begins to feel like too much, his thumb finds my clit again, firmly rubbing the bud in tight circles until my attention is well and truly split between the two sensations.

Freezing water leaks down the back of my thighs. Just as the water drips, so do the moans from my tongue.

Without stopping his ministrations on my clit, his middle and ring finger slip back inside me, plunging in deeply before retreating to the tip and then driving inside me again, pushing the ice deeper.

In a past life, he must have been Beethoven because only a pianist can move his hands the way he does. He pleasures me like his fingers are stroking ivory keys, producing music from my lungs. He’s an artist, and I’m the instrument that feeds his muse.

I grind against his fingers, losing myself in the sensations. Right when I get close to exploding all over his hand, he withdraws from my pussy.

I gasp, anger rising as I whip my head around and glare at him. But his eyes are focused on my cunt, glimmering with carnal desire. Any insult I had loaded gets jammed in my throat when he licks his lips, props the phone on his chest with the camera pointed upwards, grabs my hips, and lifts my ass above his face.

Not into, above.

“Zade,” I breathe, balancing on my forearms and now watching him from between my legs. “What are you…” I trail off when he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. My brows knit, confused on what the hell he’s doing, but then I see the melted ice drip into his mouth.

“Oh…,” I breathe, my mouth drying from how insanely hot that is.

Freezing water continues to pour into his mouth, drinking from me without even touching me. He’s a man dying of thirst, and I’m the fountain that will give him life again.

Quickly, I become restless, wanting to feel his tongue sliding against me.

“Zade,” I plead, wiggling in his grip.

“You want me to lap it up from this pink little cunt, don’t you?” he asks, dropping my hips closer to his awaiting mouth. His lips are wet from the water, but I want to see them dripping with my cum instead.

“Yes,” I whisper, my shoulders beginning to burn from the position.

He notches his chin up, his breath fanning across my pussy, causing a shiver to wrack my spine. He’s so close…

Maybe he needs encouragement.

I lift up on my hands, balance my weight on one of them, and then reach down the length of my body to grab his cock. He stills completely, his chin dropping an inch as he waits to see what I’m doing.

“If I’m going to allow you to defile me, it’s only fair I get the same privilege,” I sass, squeezing his length for emphasis. If he asks me to beg like a simpering little girl, I will bite his toe.

He drops his head fully, peering at me from between my legs with a cocked brow and amusement simmering beneath the heat.

“Do you think it will still be a privilege when it’s shoved down your throat, and you’re choking on it? I love the way you sound when you can’t breathe.”

He’s trying to scare me.

It’s working, but I won’t let him win.

I slide my hand up just enough to tug on his belt buckle. It’s awkward from this angle, but I eventually unfasten it, and then his jeans. His eyes darken as I drag down the material, his cock springing up.

It takes effort to keep from gulping. With his threat still lingering, I remember why I always try to run when Zade pulls out his dick. I could choke just looking at it.

And the asshole would only watch while I struggle not to die.

“Come closer,” I say, voice tight. Sensing my trepidation, he smirks, sliding down the wall until he’s nearly flat on his back, and his cock is in my face. He drops my hips until my knees are on the bed, now supporting my weight. Then, he grabs the phone and readjusts the position, so all of my backside and his face are in the shot.

I’m still staring down at his length, wondering how the hell Zade was lucky enough to be blessed with such a beautiful dick—especially because he’s actually Satan himself—when I feel him nip at me.

I jerk, inhaling sharply when his tongue quickly soothes the sting.

“Let’s play a game, little mouse. I will lick your sweet little pussy as long as my cock is as far down your throat as you can take it. The second you come up, I stop.”

My mouth drops. “That’s evil.”

“That’s religion. You need to worship in order to experience heaven, so start fucking worshipping.”

Snarling, I open my mouth and swallow him as deeply as he’ll go before retreating a moment later. If he wants to taste me so badly, then he’ll have to wait until I’m good and ready.

I may experience heaven every time Zade bows for me, but he’s a goddamn liar if he acts like he’s not ascending right along with me.

If he wants me to suffer, I’ll be damned if he doesn’t suffer with me.

I lick him thoroughly, earning growls from deep in his chest, as he’s snapping demands to suck him. I ignore them, focused on wetting his cock until it’s dripping with saliva. If I’m going to swallow him, then I need lubrication to handle it.

It turns into a game of who can hurt who more. He reaches over and grabs another ice cube, giving me the same treatment as before. The burning cold seeps into my sensitive clit, then up to my entrance. He slides the cube inside of me, though he doesn’t distract me from the pain this time.

Gritting my teeth, I suck on the tip, roving my tongue over the swollen head. Dragging out my own personal hell in the name of pride.

“I will remember every fucking second you delay, little mouse. And you will regret each one when I’m counting them on your ass with my hand.”

He’s tense beneath me, and I believe this is one of those rare moments where Zade is impatient. It’s enough to bring a grin to my face before I finally give in, sliding his cock down my throat until nothing exists outside of him.

He groans but doesn’t waste time plunging his tongue inside my pussy, finally adding pleasure to the pain radiating from between my thighs.

I moan around him, sending vibrations up his length while bobbing my head up and down just enough to give him stimulation.

He sucks my clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue rapidly until my eyes are rolling and my knees are shaking. Oxygen runs thin in my lungs, and as hard as I try to hold on, panic is beginning to set in when I can’t get any air.

I lift up, sucking in a deep breath, nearly sobbing when Zade rips his mouth away. He’s panting, too, his free hand sliding along my ass and squeezing to relieve his frustration.

Fuck, hurry up, Adeline. You taste so fucking good.”

One more deep breath, and I’m gulping him down again. When my clit is back in his mouth seconds later, I grind against him while sliding my tongue around his girth as best as I can.

He hums against me, expertly strumming his tongue and slurping the cold water leaking into his mouth. I glimpse at him to see several streams sliding out of the side of his mouth, past his jaw and down his throat. 

The sight is so erotic, that I almost forget what I’m choking on. Until he rolls his lips, sending the tip further down my throat. Tears spill from the corner of my eyes, and I begin to gag from how fucking intrusive he is.

Why couldn’t he have a pencil dick?

My muscles tense, but I’m out of oxygen and desperately need it. I tear myself away from him, earning a vicious growl and his teeth sinking into the apple of my asscheek in retaliation. I cry out, frantically sucking in air before swallowing him down again, nearly shoving my hips in his face.

His teeth nip at me, his entire mouth covering me as he licks and sucks. I cup his balls in my hand, squeezing firmly. He jerks up into my throat, choking me again. Tears continue to flood from my eyes, and I work not to gag.

My orgasm is peaking, the ice cube completely melted again, though the chill still lingers. I’m pushing back against his mouth, shamelessly grinding against him until I’m tumbling over the edge and shattering into the unforgiving rocks beneath.

I scream around his cock, eyes rolling as wave after harsh wave batters my body, robbing me of mind and soul. Zade growls as I buck against him, vaguely feeling the excess liquid flowing down my thighs.

Seconds later, he’s exploding into my mouth, ribbons of cum shooting down my throat as he snarls and groans against my pulsating pussy.

It never seems to end, and eventually, I’m lifting up and reaching behind me, clawing at his hair, and begging for him to stop. Surprisingly, he listens, and I collapse back down, both of us spent. My quaking knees slide further apart, incapable of holding my weight.

“You’re not done yet,” he warns, reaching for the cup again.

“You’re trying to kill me,” I mumble, words muffled against his thigh. The phone light is still on, which means he hasn’t stopped recording me yet.

I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to watch the video. Though I have a feeling Zade would just force me to until I turn into Pavlov’s dog and drool anytime I see it.

I’d rather just throw my phone into the bay than become his slobbering puppy. Except for when his dick is down my throat, of course, but that doesn’t count. That’s for my benefit, not his.

When he grabs another ice cube, I lift my head up to watch him but then immediately put it back down when I notice the string of drool connecting from my mouth to the puddle on his leg.

I hate him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, tensing once more when I feel the biting cold traveling up my thigh and towards my center.

“Just collecting on what’s mine,” he says casually. My brows pinch, then jump up my forehead when he inserts the ice inside of my pussy.

Once more, I’m strangling the sheets in my fists, and my back is bowing. He twirls the cube before sliding it out.

The phone light shuts off, and I twist my head to peer at him over my shoulder. Just in time to watch him suck the ice between his teeth, his cheeks hollowing as his tongue swirls around it. His yin-yang eyes are pinned to me, boiling with desire, and reflecting what must be in my own gaze.

I regret him turning off the camera because that sight right there—I’d kill to have that frozen in time.

He pulls it from his mouth, licking his lips as he does. Streams of water trail down his hand, and I wonder if he even notices how cold his hand must be.

Then, he’s putting the cube back inside of me. I jump, but this time, I’m more fascinated with what he’s doing to be overwhelmed by the chill.

Electric currents crackle in the air, and tension thickens the space between us as we both get lost in each other’s stare𑁋an exchange full of unquenchable desire and expectations.

Slowly, he withdraws the cube from my pussy, covered in traces of my orgasm.

“Turn around,” he demands hoarsely, his deep voice full of gravel.

It feels as if I’m in a trance as I sit up and twist around. He quickly pulls up his jeans to cover himself before I can settle back down on his lap, and I refuse to acknowledge how disappointing that is.

That disappointment dissipates when he plops the cube into his mouth, grabs my jaw, and pulls me forward until our lips are colliding in a cyclone of fire and ice. Where his mouth is cold, mine is hot, and the mix is as dangerous as a livewire in water.

He pries my lips apart with his tongue before shoving the ice cube between my teeth. Instinctively, I suck on the ice, the taste of my arousal faint.

Back and forth, we trade the cube between us until water is spilling from between our lips and down our chins. One hand is tangled in my hair, while the other is curled around my back, holding me in place.

The kiss is feral and messy, and it doesn’t take long before my hands are roaming his chest and stomach, frantically and without direction.

I’m out of oxygen, yet it feels like he’s feeding me life with each stroke of his tongue.

Eventually, he tugs me away, both of us greedily sucking in air yet wholly unsatisfied by it. Before I can blink, he’s setting me to the side and standing up, refastening his jeans and belt.

I’m almost disoriented by the sudden change, and then even more so when I find a red rose on my bed. I swear he pulls them out of his ass.

He tosses my phone onto the comforter next to me, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I snap, beginning to feel uncomfortable. Reality is setting in, and I’m very tempted to snatch the stupid device up and delete the evidence of what we just did. Then throw it in the toilet and flush it, purely because I won’t be able to look at it without remembering this.

It shouldn’t have happened.

“Have you fallen in love with me yet?” he asks, his grin widening when I shoot him a nasty look.

“No,” I clip.

He hums, nodding his head as if he’s learned something new about me. He’s about to learn what my fist feels like in his nose.

“Your heart isn’t any different than the ice inside your pussy, baby. It’ll melt, and I’ll devour that, too.”

He’s heading for the door, and I’m sputtering for a response.

“That video stays on my phone,” I call out finally, cheeks burning from embarrassment.

He cocks his head over his shoulder with a devilish smile. “Don’t worry, little mouse. I’ll just rewatch it from the cameras in your room.”

Then, he’s out the door, firmly shutting it behind him.

Oh my god. I actually hate him.

Mouth open in outrage, I look over to see my phone replaying the video. At one point, he must’ve changed the angle because he’s staring into the camera, licking my pussy like a goddamn fiend. The bright light accentuates his unusual eyes and the white scar slashing down his face, highlighting the obsession in his expression as he devours me. My stomach drops, butterflies sprouting.

I snatch the phone up, staring into the screen with wide eyes.

Okay, fine. I don’t hate him completely.


We’re moving into a new era, my brothers and sisters, and it’s nothing to be scared of. Take my hand, and I will lead you there…”

Snarling, I click off the T.V.

“Was that Gabriel Dubois?” Daya asks through the phone. I almost forgot she was there.

I sigh. “Yeah. Can’t fucking stand the dude, and for some godforsaken reason, he’s only getting more popular.”

He’s nothing more than another psycho maniac claiming to be God’s disciple. Really, he’s a regular, ordi-fucking-nary man that’s convinced himself he’s special.

"Zade will correct that real soon, especially considering who he is,” Daya says. “Are you home alone?"

"Yeah," I answer, sipping from my wine glass. The rain patters loudly against the bay window, the lights flickering from the severity of the storm. I’m rocking in Gigi’s chair, laptop resting on my legs while I go over my manuscript before sending it off to my editor.

Nights like these are my favorite.

"Well, as alone as I can be,” I correct. “Even with Claire gone, Zade refuses to relax and keeps security around the property. I swear to God, they’re so bored, I saw one of them jacking off behind a tree the other day."

"That's disgusting," she responds dryly.

I cringe, almost regretting saying that when I remember that my fiancé is a psychopath. "Don't tell Zade that. He'll chop off the dude’s dick."

"How would he even know which guy it was?" she challenges.

I bite my lip, remembering the time when he delivered Archie’s hands in a box on my doorstep. Still extremely fucked up. And still slightly pissed about that.

But it’s the least traumatizing thing I’ve been through and well… he did deserve it.

"You're right. He'd chop them all off and call it a day.”

I can't see her, but I'm confident she just rolled her eyes.

“He’d chop off their dicks for less. I have no plans to say anything.”

The lights flicker again, and my heart flutters with excitement. I’m not exactly looking forward to having no power, but Parsons Manor being cast in complete darkness with the entities that roam the halls, sounds positively dreadful. And I fucking love that.

“Thanks,” I murmur, the sound of footsteps creaking from above, disturbing the steady sound of rain bulleting into the house. It pulls a grin out of me.

My phone buzzes in my hand, distracting me from the restless spirit. I pull the phone away long enough to glimpse who messaged me, and my heart flutters with excitement.

"Daya, I gotta go.”

“Okay, but don’t forget about wedding planning tomorrow!”

Now I’m rolling my eyes. “I told you, nothing extrava—”

“Shut up, this isn’t about you. It’s about me and fulfilling my maid of honor dreams.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still holding out until we find Sibby anyway," I remind her. “No one would fulfill flower girl better than her.”

It’s only been four months since she’s been gone, but her absence weighs heavily on us. Parsons Manor isn’t the same without the little creep wandering around.

I miss training with her, and I miss her eating all the Pop-Tarts.

Worst of all, I just hate that we don’t know where she is.

Daya sighs. “I know. We’ll find her. And then, you will have the most over the top wedding imaginable. In the meantime, I’m bringing over cake tomorrow.”

I snort. “As long as there’s options. I’m hanging up now.”

I end the call in the midst of her singing adieu, a grin on my face while I click on the new message.

UNKNOWN: You’re so pretty when you smile.

Said smile widens, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I read it over again, knowing exactly who it’s from. Yet, I feel adrenaline zip down my spine anyway.

Another message appears.

UNKNOWN: But you’re prettier when you cry.


He’s a sick fuck, yet somehow, I'm in love with him anyway. I look out the window, squinting to see through the blurry glass, but he’s not out there. At least not that I can see.

A moment later, all the lights cut out, drowning me in near darkness. I have a fire going, but the light isn’t strong enough to brighten more than ten feet or so, leaving most of the living room and kitchen completely shadowed.

I'm not so sure the storm was the cause.

Heart pounding, I set my laptop on the stool in front of me and stand, every little creak in the manor amplified. Already, my eyes are playing tricks on me. Shadow fingers skirt across the edge of light, and for a second, I swear I see something standing by the TV.

My phone buzzes in my hand again, and I nearly jump out of my skin from the unexpectedness of it, a yelp slipping free.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to have a heart attack by thirty at this rate.

UNKNOWN: Hide, little mouse. If I find you, I fuck you.

Immediately, heat courses through my veins, and I’m clenching my thighs as I read over the message a second time.

How tempting to stay put. But I can’t deny the thrill of being chased by my shadow.

ME: No watching me through the cameras. Let's see how good of a hunter you really are.

Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I scamper to the stairs and begin to quietly creep up them right when a flash of lightning blares through the windows, highlighting the living room in a moon-white glow for half a second. Part of me expected to see Zade standing there, hiding in the shadows, but I knew he wouldn't make it so easy.

Hurrying up to the second floor, I keep one hand planted against the wall as I make my way down the hallway. I can’t see shit, and the adrenaline polluting my system like smog is making me feel dizzy.

I could use my phone's flashlight, but what's the fun in that? It would also give me away, and I won’t make it so easy for Zade, either.

It’s freezing, the unusually cold temperature only heightening the foreboding feeling clinging to my bones like marrow. As if to prove a point, something breathes down the back of my neck, sending an ice-cold chill down my spine.

That lights a fire under my ass. I scurry into the first room on my left, softly closing the door behind me. The hinges are flush with the corner of the room, so I tuck myself in the alcove. That way, when he opens the door, it will conceal me.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest as silence presses in around me. I’m shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline or because of the ghost that was way too close for comfort.

Several minutes tick by before I hear a distinct creak from down the hall. There's no way to tell if it's Zade or a spirit.

Footsteps slowly trail toward me, the pace casual, not a care in the world.

It's Zade.

I bite the inside of my cheek, my stomach somersaulting when the footsteps cease outside my door. Hiding in the first room is too easy, we both know that. But I have no intentions of staying or letting him catch me.

Tension builds as the silence drags. The fucker is playing mind games with me.

Right when I'm convinced that he's moved on, a loud bang reverberates on the door, the sound thunderous. Just barely do I slap my hand over my mouth before a startled yelp escapes.

That didn't come from outside the room.

It came from the inside.

My wide eyes are locked in the direction of the closet, where the noise originated from. Someone is in there, and I've lost all confidence on who is in this room with me, and who is outside.

My heart is pounding wildly against my chest, and I think the adrenaline mixed with the terror is making me feel a little nauseous.

Before I can decide what the fuck to do, the door next to me is slowly creaking open.

Thank fuck. I'm desperate to get the hell out of here.

Zade's profile appears as he enters, but I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse that he's not the one in the closet.

Carefully, I slide along the wall until I reach the edge of the door while he walks deeper into the room. I’m fully prepared to slip out and make a run for it when Zade stills, his back to me, and his hood over his head. I freeze, too, hoping he doesn’t turn yet. Surely, he can hear my pulse from where he stands.

"Little mouse," he calls dangerously.

Fuck this.

I dart out from my hiding spot and race back into the hall, plunged into complete darkness once more.

Zade’s deep laugh follows me as I sprint down the steps and into the living room, his footsteps close behind. I'm aiming for the sunroom when I hear Zade coming down the hall that's on the other side of the steps, headed my way.


I pivot and race back toward the staircase, my mind racing. I can either try to sneak out the front door or go back up to the second floor.

Or—I could come up behind him in the corridor and slip into one of the bedrooms down there, though I haven't been in any of them since I renovated the place.

Biting my lip, I tip-toe past the stairs, and pop my head into the hallway, listening for my shadow. I hear nothing, so I slowly creep down toward one of the bedrooms, keeping my left hand planted on the wall to ground me. Straight ahead is the sunroom, but there's nowhere to hide in there.

My hand brushes against wood with ridges in it, and I stop, remembering that there’s a closet here. I don’t use it, so I completely forgot about it. There’s a chance Zade has forgotten it exists, too.

Backtracking, I quickly open the door just enough to slip through and softly close it. It’s a spacious closet, but I stay close to the exit in the case I need to make a run for it.

A stillness descends over me, and if I’m not careful, Zade will feel my breath through the shutters once he passes by. My breath is stuttering out of my throat, broken up by the erratic pulse of my heart.

For several minutes, it’s quiet. Until it’s not. There’s a low creak from down the hall, stemming from the direction of the sunroom.

Heavy footsteps start my way, and I can’t help but take a step back, the doom of being found hanging low over my head.

Alarm bells blare as the footsteps near, and while the danger is definitely outside the closet door, it feels as if it’s also inside. Behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, an ominous feeling needling into every one of my pores.

A warm gust of air fans lightly across my nape, and like a judge, it calls the goosebumps on my skin to all rise.

I freeze, every one of my joints locked as someone presses against me, molding their front to my back. My heart drops into my stomach, flipping it over until I feel like vomiting it back up.

Fuck. Me.

“Do you think it can smell your fear, little mouse?” he whispers before his finger feathers along the column of my neck. “Or maybe it can hear how hard your heart is beating—feel the pulse in your throat.”

I work to swallow, feeling like a rock is in my throat, but I can’t deny the low thrum beginning between my thighs.

“Fuck off,” I whisper unevenly, just as the footsteps pause outside of the closet.

His hand circles around my throat, the act as deadly as if it were a python.

“Shh,” he hushes darkly, punctuated by a low creak outside the door. Heat gathers low in my stomach, and I clench my thighs, the only thing that abates the need throbbing in my pussy.

Whatever is outside isn’t friendly. But I’m used to the foul spirits that reside in Parsons Manor. They don’t scare me any more than the predator at my back, playing with its food before going in for the kill.

Gradually, he severs my oxygen supply while something shakes the closet door violently. Despite myself, I flinch in Zade’s hold, the malice radiating from outside this confined place I’m trapped in unmistakable. His other hand glides across the waistband of my leggings before slipping beneath it. A gasp gets stuck in my throat as his fingers lightly brush across my clit.

“Maybe,” he starts again, his deep voice dropping lower, sending chills down my spine. “It can smell you.”

The moment the last word leaves his mouth, he plunges a finger inside my pussy. I can’t make a sound, the vibrations of a scream redirected to scatter across every one of my nerve endings.

My back bows, and the closet door shakes again.

“It must be hungry,” he murmurs, a low growl emanating deep from his chest when he adds a second finger, feeling my arousal flood around him.

Blackness licks at the edges of my vision, and the panic is steadily climbing as I struggle for oxygen. He pumps in and out of me, the noises emanating from his movements obscene.

Whatever is outside rattles the door again, harder this time, but it’s difficult to focus when Zade begins to circle my clit with his thumb.

He loosens his grip around my throat just enough to allow a sliver of oxygen through. I breathe in desperately, though it comes out choked when he adds a third finger.

“Zade,” I rasp, my hips involuntarily rolling into his hand.

“What do you think will anger it more, baby? The fact that it’s not fear that’s making you tremble or that the only monster that can hurt you is me?”

An uneven moan is the only response I’m capable of, though it bleeds into a sharp gasp when the negative spirit hits the door, causing me to jerk against him.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I’m convinced all my organs have decided to go AWOL, an attempt to abandon me and leave me with the beast. Whether it’s the one outside or the one behind me doesn’t matter. They’re both intent on possessing me.

As if to prove a point, his teeth clamp down on the delicate flesh beneath my ear, earning another husky moan.

My stomach is tight with a quickly growing orgasm, and I know the moment he pulls away, I’ll feel fucking empty.

He pumps his fingers quicker, and the sounds pouring past my lips are becoming cruder as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.

I think the door rattles again, but I’m past caring. My tunnel vision is focused on how fucking good he makes my pussy feel.

“Oh, God,” I groan.

“I’m here, baby. Now show that demon outside who truly possesses you,” he whispers, pressing firmly on my clit.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the knot in my stomach snaps, and I’m erupting all over his hand.

My head kicks back, a staccato scream surging from my throat as I’m swept away by a force that can only be wielded by a god.

A deep growl rumbles against my back, and I can feel Zade tensing as he continues to pump his fingers, drawing out my orgasm until I’m boneless. I collapse in his arms, but he holds me steady, and I can feel the slickness between my thighs, causing my leggings to stick to my skin uncomfortably.

Panting heavily, I lean a hand on the door, right as it stops shaking. I hadn’t even realized it had started again.

“Fuck,” I wheeze, though the word barely makes it out.

He pulls his hand away, and I can’t see a damn thing, but I can hear him licking his fingers clean. Even post orgasm, that turns me on, which is incredibly annoying.

And also, the perfect time to make an escape. He may have briefly distracted me, but I’m not ready to admit defeat.

There’s no time to give myself a mental pep talk, so I just act, whipping open the door and barreling into the hallway.

Fuck the ghost, I have an actual murderer chasing me.

I hear the door hit the wall as he charges out behind me, a deep growl following me as I sprint toward the entryway by the staircase, past them, and into the living room. The fire is still going, casting dancing shadows across the room that are suspiciously lifelike.

The adrenaline rushing through my system is convoluting my common sense, but the only place I can think to go is the sunroom.

Of course, the fucker doesn’t let me make it three more steps before he’s fisting my hair and jerking me back. Before my brain can catch up, I’m falling backward, though he controls my descent and softens the blow just enough that I won’t need to visit any hospitals tonight.

I yelp, curses pouring from my mouth as I struggle in his hold, desperately trying to break free. It takes a few seconds before my training kicks in and I outmaneuver him, but he’s already two steps ahead of me and easily counters my attempts. He’s always two steps ahead of me.

My hands are trapped on my sides, in between his thick thighs, and he sits on me heavily, preventing me from doing nothing more than wiggling like a worm on a hook.


Heaving, I glare up at him, huffing through my nose like a raging bull. The bright, orange glow from the fire creates a startling effect on his face. Light and darkness wage a war across the sharp planes of his features. His light, blue eye is brightened, the scar slashing through it prominent, while his dark eye retreats into the shadows.

He seizes my face between his fingers, pinching my cheeks roughly as he gets in my face.

“If I find you, I fuck you,” he snarls.

“Fuck off,” I bite out, more contrite that I lost. I’m a sore loser, and the dickhead knows it. So, I do the worst thing possible and spit in his face. Because self-preservation is so last season.

He rears back in shock, enough time for me to wiggle one arm loose and send my fist flying into his cheek.

A wicked laugh booms from his throat, and he catches my wrist easily, squeezing hard enough to give me a warning.

I don’t listen. I buck beneath him, and the power struggle renews. I’m able to land one more punch with my other fist, but within seconds, he’s pinning my arms above my head with one hand, and once more rendering me useless.

“Asshole,” I spit, right as he grips the collar of my t-shirt and rips it off in a single move, my bra quickly following. My mouth drops open, helplessly watching the tattered remains be tossed to the side.

“I liked that bra.”

He ignores me, and I feel him grab the waistband of my leggings next. I struggle hard, but to no avail, and my anger spikes when they briefly tighten around my waist, only to be ripped from my body.

“Zade!” I shout, growling as he turns me over onto my stomach, locking my wrists behind my back. Instantly, I freeze, my eyes widening with true panic, and my stomach revolting.

For a moment, it’s not Zade behind me anymore, but Rocco.

Convinced of it, I renew my fight, but he’s bearing his weight down on me.

“Get off of me!” I shout, desperate to break free. My thoughts race a mile a second, tripping over themselves as I try to find a way out from his hold.

“Say my name again, baby. Let me hear it,” he demands roughly. I scream at him instead, but he persists. “Say it, Adeline.”

His sharp command pierces through the panic long enough for his name to slip out.

“Zade,” I whisper, though I refuse to still completely. Terror is pumping into my system steadily, and my vision is tunneling.

“Say it again,” he orders, his palm gliding over my asscheek and up my waist, the action possessive—claiming—yet comforting.

“Zade,” I choke out, my voice broken with too many emotions to sift through. Rocco is disappearing, but my chest aches with how hard the muscle within beats.

“Good girl,” he praises, rolling his hips into my backside. I feel the hard press of him against my spine, and the bite of his zipper. “Focus on me, and only me.”

He pulls back enough to tear at my thong, the material biting into my skin and offering a small dose of pain to ground me. Then, his teeth are sinking into the apple of my ass, drawing a hiss from between my teeth. I arch into his mouth, pain and pleasure threading together like a strand of DNA.

His wet tongue glides up toward my hip before he takes another savage bite, a groan releasing from his throat, mingling with my own.

Just as the pain becomes too much, his fingers brush against my pussy, dipping inside me briefly to gather my arousal on the tips, before sliding them up to my clit.

My eyes flutter, my stomach tightening as his mouth gradually ascends my body, delivering sharp, unmerciful bites. Within moments, I’m shuddering, my teeth chattering as his fingers continue to work me skillfully.

“Say my name,” he demands roughly, then clamps his teeth down on the back of my shoulder.

“Zade!” I gasp, and as a reward, he sinks two fingers inside me, causing my eyes to roll.

His teeth release me, only for him to crowd over me, his hot breath fanning across my ear.

“Now scream it,” he whispers. Before I can open my mouth, he’s gone, only to reappear between my legs. In seconds, my wrists are free, giving me just enough time to balance myself on the floor as he lifts me up by the hips.

I don’t even have a moment to breathe before his tongue is swiping up my pussy before sucking my clit into his mouth.

Unconsciously, I heed his demand and scream his name.

How silly of me to think I had any choice.

He growls against me, the vibration running through my entire body as he feasts on me. My legs tremble violently while he trades between licking and biting me.

“Ahh! Oh my God, Zade, oh fuck,” I chant, arching my back impossibly farther, desperate to feel more of him yet already feeling too much.

He groans again, lapping at me sensually, dipping his tongue inside me, only to circle back to my clit once more.

“You’re told to get on your knees to pray so you can make it into heaven,” he starts, his voice a deep rumble. He can’t resist licking me again before continuing, “But I’m your God, and the only way I will take you is when I’m on my knees.”

I bite my lip, overcome with sensation as he quickly brings me to another orgasm. It rips through me like lightning, and it feels like I’m exploding from the force of it, until only stardust remains.

A scream rips from my throat as I seize against him, my head dropping heavily to the floor, my moans turning into sobs.

Right as I come down, he bites my clit, and the outcry that bursts from my throat is one born of overstimulation and pain.

“Zade!” I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as he relentlessly suctions it into his mouth, until I’m quite literally kicking at him to get away.

I manage to land a solid kick to his shoulder, knocking him away enough to free myself from his hold. By pure instinct alone, I start crawling away, the checkered tiling digging into my knees uncomfortably.

I hear him chuckle darkly from behind me, which only serves to heighten the adrenaline churning in my stomach.

A startled yelp escapes when I feel his hands clamp around each ankle and drag me back toward him, my nails clawing into the floor. It feels like I’ve stumbled my way into a horror movie, the psychotic serial killer hunting me down and dragging me into the depths before brutally taking my life.

And while Zade would never kill me, my life has always been his for the taking.

I kick at him while he wrangles me onto my back, allowing me to put more strength behind my strikes. He easily overpowers me, though, and forces his body between my legs, hands on either side of my head while he grins manically in my face.

“Where are you going, little mouse?” he taunts, before leaning in close, delivering a sharp nip to my jaw. “I’m not finished eating my dinner.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I gasp.

My back arches when he rolls his hips against mine, the sharp bite of his zipper grinding directly on my sensitive clit, concealing his hard cock.

I’m not sure the sound that leaves my lips is one of protest or encouragement, but it wouldn’t matter either way. Nothing would stop Zade from taking what he wants.

My mouth falls open when he grinds against me a second time, and he seizes the opportunity by capturing my lips with his, dipping his tongue inside and curling it erotically along the roof of my mouth.

Electricity pulses under the surface of my skin, and I’m simultaneously melting and coming alive beneath him.

My hands shove at his hoodie, forcing him to break our kiss while I tear the offensive fabric from his body. He descends back onto me immediately, and I slide my palms along his chest, feeling the raised texture of the rose scar carved over his heart. I trace the other one on his chest down to the contours on his stomach, brushing the pads of my fingers across a third scar.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

Not wasting any more time, I pop the button on his jeans and slide the zipper down, reaching beneath his briefs to grip his cock. It’s almost disturbing how tiny my hand feels when wrapped around him.

A growl resounds in my mouth, and his teeth gnash savagely at my lips while he rolls his hips deeper into me.

I shove down his pants impatiently, prompting him to kick them and his briefs the rest of the way off, completely baring himself for me.

Instantly, his cock slides against my pussy, and we both groan into each other’s mouths. He grabs himself and glides the tip through my slit, a low growl radiating from his chest.

Slowly, he pushes inside me. I’ve no idea how many times Zade has fucked me by now, but every time feels like the first time.

His breath fans across my neck, traveling to right below my ear before delivering a sharp bite.

“Oh my God,” I breathe, shuddering as he sinks deeper, his palm sliding up to my breast and cupping it tightly.

I feel him grin against me before he whispers, “I am your God, and you, little mouse, are my favorite creation.”

My eyes roll as he fills me completely, the sound erupting from my throat choked and high-pitched.

He doesn’t let me adjust any longer, immediately pulling his hips back only to drive inside me to the hilt, his body slamming into me hard enough to slide me up the floor an inch.

My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in deep to anchor myself as he sets a harsh but steady pace, pulling more otherworldly moans from my mouth.

It’d be embarrassing if I hadn’t already gotten used to the sound of my body falling apart.

“Shh, baby, the ghosts might hear you,” Zade murmurs, the glow from the fire highlighting the devilish grin on his face.

“Let them,” I bite out, my brows furrowing when he rolls his hips just right.

Curling my legs around him, I force him closer until he’s grinding against me, his pelvis rubbing my clit and causing my nails to dig deeper.

“You like being watched, Adeline?” he questions darkly. “What do you want them to see, hm? I could bring you to the brink of death, get them excited that maybe you’ll be joining them soon.”

His hand brushes across my throat threateningly, the act as sinister as the words coming from his mouth. Butterflies unleash in my stomach, my instincts remembering just how often Zade follows through on his promises.

“You’re psychotic,” I breathe, though my eyes are threatening to cross from what he’s doing to my body.

He hooks his arms underneath my thighs and lifts them, my knees nearly up to my ears. I cry out, the sensations sharper as he continues to grind against me, keeping up the movements that he knows drive me wild.

Then, his hand is closing around my throat, causing my heart to drop with fear.

“You won’t do it,” I challenge, my oxygen quickly depleting as his grip tightens. “You couldn’t live without me.”

“No, little mouse, I couldn’t. I’d follow you in death, and then you’d never be able to escape me.”

I bite my lip as he clamps down on my neck completely, and whatever words that were on my tongue dissipate alongside the air in my lungs.

Deep in the pit of my stomach, an orgasm is forming—like a storm brewing, beginning with a few storm clouds and growing into a hurricane.

He hits that perfect spot inside me that has my thighs tightening and my toes curling. The pressure in my stomach sharpens, creating a desperation that never seems to wane, no matter how often Zade makes me come.

No sound can breach the constriction around my throat, causing my heart to pick up with adrenaline and panic. I flail, but he doesn’t relent as he fucks me harder.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers.

I didn’t—at least not at first. But now that he’s brought attention to it, there are footsteps pacing the floor behind me. My heart pounds harder, the terror swirling in my veins only intensifying the pleasure.

The crease between my brows deepens, and I know my face is on the verge of turning purple. My vision is fading, yet the orgasm only grows stronger.

I tap at Zade’s hand, desperate for air, but he only unhooks his other arm from my leg, reaches between us and firmly circles my clit.

Then, my vision does blacken completely and moments later, I’m exploding. Immediately, Zade releases my throat, and the breath I suck in is obnoxiously loud as I completely unravel.

My first scream is almost entirely silent, overcome with the climax that is ripping my insides to shreds and battling with my body’s instinctive need to fucking breathe.

When I can finally suck in enough air, the second scream begins as a cry and ends in a sob.

Zade doesn’t relent. He continues to drive into me, his teeth clamping down on my neck in a savage bite that has my eyes crossing and another wave of ecstasy rolling through me.

“Fuck, oh fuck, Zade,” I cry, the words garbled.

Shudders are racking my body, and I’ve lost control over all functions.

Right when it becomes too much, his arms move to slide underneath my back, and then he’s standing, bringing me with him. I clutch onto his shoulders while he walks us to the fireplace, tension building in my muscles as we near. My orgasm has retreated enough for me to regain my senses, and a part of me wishes I hadn’t.

Any other woman would find this romantic, to be fucked in front of a fireplace—if they were dating a normal man. And while Zade is romantic, he also finds every opportunity to push my boundaries, and I have a sinking feeling this will be no different.

“Zade,” I hedge, his name coming out as a warning.

He doesn’t answer, instead sinking to his knees right before the fireplace, my back directly to it. I peek around my shoulder, the heat sinking into my skin and making me uncomfortably hot.

“Zade,” I try again, my voice pitching with hysteria.

Still, he stays quiet and reaches beyond me to grab a gothic candelabra that sits next to the pit, the five candles halfway melted down to the black ornate arms.

“Lean back on your hands,” he orders. I hesitate. I’m on his lap, his knees spread wide as he balances on his heels and his cock trapped between our bodies. Moving back would put me too close to the fire for comfort.

He meets my eyes, a feral expression on his face, all his sharp edges and harsh lines even more prominent. His icy, blue eye looks like moonlight, and just like the ocean tides, it sucks me in.

It’s enough to suspend my heart in my chest. Swallowing nervously, I do as he says, the heat intensifying as I near.

He gives no warning before he’s lifting my hips and sinking inside me once more, my previous orgasms offering only a small reprieve from his size as he stretches me. It doesn’t abate the burn, but right now, it’s the only one I welcome.

My back arches, my head beginning to fall back and instantly causing me to flinch, scared that my hair is going to fall victim first to the flames. I’ll be so fucking pissed if that happens.

Reaching forward, he grabs my jaw and pushes me back farther, and my entire body cements into stone, a startled gasp slipping past my lips.

“Do you feel as I do?” he asks, a snarl forming as he sinks inside me, jerking my body even closer to the heat. “Like you’re burning alive, and the one holding you over the flames is the one you can’t live without?”

I can only stare at him with widened eyes as he releases me, then grabs one of the candles and sticks the tip into the fire, the wick igniting instantly.

“Do you trust me?” he questions, flicking his mismatched eyes to me.

“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation. “But you’re also a freak, and that’s a little scary.”

His answering grin is wolfish. My heart pounds inside my chest, uncertainty holding me hostage as he brushes the bottom of it down through the valley of my breasts, across the planes of my stomach and to my pussy. I tense as he uses it to circle my clit, the flickering flame inches from his own stomach.

I shudder, my thighs stiffening as he coaxes pleasure from between my legs, the wax beginning to slowly melt in his hand. Then, he begins to roll his hips seductively, the movements slight but effective.

“Oh,” I breathe, my eyes fluttering. “That feels so good.”

He’s watching what he’s doing closely, but I can’t look away from him and how fucking devastating he looks beneath the flames. His long lashes brush across his cheeks, and his lips are slightly parted. The defined contours of his physique thrive beneath the firelight, and more than anything, I wish I could capture this image of him forever.

Sensing my stare, he lifts his yin-yang eyes to mine, suspending the oxygen in my lungs. A slight smirk tips up the corner of his lips, and my stomach clenches from the sight.

He’s an unnatural being that has no business walking this earth.

“But is it enough?” he questions.

Before I can ask, what he means, the first drip of hot wax has a sharp yelp rupturing from my throat as it burns a trail down the inside crease of my thigh.

“Fuck,” I curse, my voice breathless.

My eyes fly to the candle just as another drop lands on my flesh, drawing a hiss from between my teeth.

He hums, the sound of a beast that’s been caged for too long. “Your cunt looks so pretty when I make it red.”

Gradually, Zade quickens his pace, and I’m helpless to stop the low moans from breaking free. More drips of hot wax land on my pussy in quick succession. My entire body flushes, the heat at my back as relentless as the wax burning vengeful trails down between my legs. A thin layer of sweat coats my skin as euphoria builds beneath his ministrations.

My arms are trembling, and I’m no longer in control over myself. My own hips are rolling to meet his thrusts, no longer caring where the hot wax lands—it feels too good.

It doesn’t take long before I can no longer hold myself up, so I drop onto my upper back. He raises up on his knees, my back arched, and ass now completely lifted as he drives into me. One hand holds onto my hip, while the other continues to swirl the melting candle on my clit.

Sharp cries fill the empty space, broken up by Zade’s own moans, and the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of me.

“Fuck, you take it so good. You make me so proud,” he rasps, enraptured by the sight of him fucking me.

“Yes, yes,” I moan, the word saturated with desperation. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you, begging for my cock like a greedy, little slut.”

I shake my head, incapable of uttering a single word when sharp pleasure is building too quickly for me to grasp onto.

He lifts the candle from my clit, and the loss of pressure has a mewl slipping free, though it quickly bleeds into a cry as a hot trail of wax drips up my stomach and to my breasts. He lets it melt onto each nipple, my cries growing sharper from the stinging pain. His hand is covered in the white coating, trails of it leading across the back of his hand and down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Greed, lust… you know those sins are deadly,” he admonishes. “And you know what happens when you sin, don’t you, baby?”

The only response I’m capable of is a gargled shout when the searing trail leads back down toward my pussy. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside me that sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“Oh my God, Zade!” I sob, my hands flying to my breasts, the cooled wax cracking beneath my palms as I squeeze tightly.

“That’s right, little mouse. And I will make you burn.”

Then, he hovers the candle directly over my clit, setting it aflame, though careful to keep it away from my entrance.

My mouth falls open on a silent scream, the flames sinking into my skin, merciless as he fucks me. The raging fire is right before my face, and when the orgasm crests, I open my eyes, lost in the inferno as he takes me over the edge.

Vaguely, I hear something hit the ground before his thumb swirls firmly across my clit. My back bows until only my head remains on the tiled flooring. My soul is being ripped from my body; an exorcism performed by a godly being.

He is the one who dragged me under, and he is the only one who can bring me back.

Something carnal is ripped from my throat, but it’s lost to my ears. I’m no longer of this earth, of this plane of existence. I’m somewhere deeper—hotter—somewhere eternal.

I’m burning alive.

A roar rips through the static in my head, and Zade fucks me faster, filling me with his own release while I contract around him.

I think my body is shaking, and my lungs are no longer functioning as I lose myself to the waves of bliss coursing through me.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before the orgasm wanes, and I slowly regain my senses.

He pulls out from me, settling my body flat on the cool tile and dragging me away from the fire.

It takes a few moments for my vision to filter back in, and when it does, I find Zade crowded over me, his lips gently pressed into the rose carved over my heart.

Breathing heavily, I toss my limbs out to the side, utterly spent.

“I totally let you win that game,” I pant.

His chuckle vibrates against my chest, and he lifts his head to meet my eyes, lifting his hand to thumb my bottom lip fondly.

“As if you could ever escape me, little mouse.”

I grin. “As if I’d ever want to.”



The short answer: No.

The long answer: Still no, it is a duet. This being said, I may give them a new story in the future, though I couldn't promise this happening, or say when it would.

Furthermore, the Cat & Mouse world will be explored in many spin offs; viewing many characters lives and stories, which could have some adaptation or appearance of Zade and Adeline.

Stick around and find out.

Haunting Adeline first, then Hunting Adeline.

You have to read Haunting Adeline first. These cannot be read out of order.


BUT. While it's not required, it is strongly suggested, as Haunting Adeline spoils the ending for Satan's Affair.

Some recommend reading it in between, but in my opinion, you should read it before starting the duet.


She's getting a duet. I'm currently working on it now! She'll be getting her own why choose.


Rio will be getting a standalone.

The Basilisk Brotherhood will each be getting their own books. It will be a four book standalone series, and they will not be a why choose.

As for Daya, no. Unfortunately, she doesn't speak to me, and I refuse to force a story. She deserves the best, and if she ever starts talking, I'd be happy to tell her story.

As for Jay... possibly. 


I will get the master files sometime in January 2023. Release date is TBD, but I'm hopeful for January.

For the OOP (out of print) copies of Shallow River and Haunting Adeline, there will be opportunities to get these books, whether it's giveaways, random stocks, or signing events. 

For the SE Omnibus with Zade on the cover, no. These will not be reprinted again.